


In Detroit

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Detroit, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean stubbornly refused to break eye contact first, trying to ignore his body's reaction. He and Cas had been dancing an even longer, more delicate dance around each other since the whole world went to shit, and Dean wondered if it would ever actually hit its breaking point. He knew there were multiple ongoing wagers back at the camp as to whether they were actually sleeping together, and he couldn't bring himself to care.</p><p>He wondered, when he let himself think about it, if he was the only person at the camp that Cas wasn't actually sleeping with.</p><p>He didn't let himself think about it very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cas yanked Dean through a doorway and shoved him against the wall, one hand wrapped around his mouth, glass crunching under their feet.

Every one of Dean's instincts screamed for him to throw Cas off him, get away from him right fucking now, but he knew that despite the last of Castiel's grace having burned away years ago, he hadn't lost an iota of his hyper-sharp senses. The speed and precision of his movements left no doubt of the unfathomable layers still wrapped in a fragile human skin.

So Dean fought down the fight-or-flight thrumming in his blood and just raised his eyebrows in silent question. Cas nodded and tilted his head, indicating the hallway he'd just pulled Dean out of. He didn't move his hand, and Dean could feel Cas' palm getting warm and damp. Cas' breath puffed on his cheek.

Dean stubbornly refused to break eye contact first, trying to ignore his body's reaction. He and Cas had been dancing an even longer, more delicate dance around each other since the whole world went to shit, and Dean wondered if it would ever actually hit its breaking point. He knew there were multiple ongoing wagers back at the camp as to whether they were actually sleeping together, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

He wondered, when he let himself think about it, if he was the only person at the camp that Cas wasn't actually sleeping with.

He didn't let himself think about it very much.

Finally he reached up and peeled Cas' hand off. _Croat_? he mouthed.

Cas nodded, then seemed to realize all at once how close he was leaning into Dean, and jerked away. Dean fell back, slumping against the wall, but he could never quite quell the small twinge of satisfaction that Cas was no less affected by their proximity than he was.

Finally Cas moved to lean against the wall next to Dean. "Gone," he said. "We shouldn't have come here, Dean."

Dean bit back a hysterical giggle. "No fucking shit, Cas," he said. "We're in Detroit. This place went post-apocalyptic _before the apocalypse_. But we're running out of options. And toilet paper."

Cas sighed. "Why are we _here_ , though? In these auto plants? Aren't these going to be fucking breeding grounds for croats?"

Dean sank to the floor, rubbing at his face. "Yeah. They probably are. But these places have been incubating chaos for decades. There's croats everywhere, Cas. I'd rather deal with 'em in a place that's used to this kinda shit."

Cas eyed him dubiously, then sighed again. "You're probably right," he said, closing his eyes.

Something scuffled in the hallway and Dean shot to his feet. He scanned the room and grabbed Cas' hand, consciously ignoring whatever subtext his brain was supplying, and dragged him to a window. The pane was mostly gone in the adjacent building, so he yanked off his jacket, wrapping his hand in it, and knocked out the remaining glass.

Cas wrenched his arm free. "Go, Dean!" he yelled, as three croats burst through the door. "I'll hold them off --"

"Like fuck you will," Dean snarled. He shot two with one hand as he forced Cas through the window, but the last grazed his ankle before Dean shot its eyes out.

They both managed to launch themselves across the tiny divider and into the next building, rolling across more broken glass before sitting up. Cas looked at him, face impassive, and reached out for his foot. Dean bit his lip and extended his leg.

Cas felt along the scratch, fingertips cool and soothing, then bent down and inhaled, his lips brushing Dean's skin. When he sat back up, there was something unreadable in his face, and he locked his hand around Dean's ankle.

"You aren't infected," he finally said, and Dean let out a breath.

"You're sure."

"Yes," Cas said, meeting his eyes. He wiped at Dean's skin, carefully avoiding the wound. "Close. But no blood got into yours."

He stared at Dean, then slapped him hard across the face.

"Fuck! What the fuck, Cas?" he yelped, rubbing his jaw.

"You will not sacrifice yourself for me," he hissed.

"Says the guy who threw himself at three croats for _me_ ," Dean spat. He was dizzy and angry. "Says the guy who gave up a fucking angel army for me. What are you fucking playing at, Cas?"

"You full-on rebelled against Heaven for me," Dean continued, trying to keep his voice level. "And I don't even know who you're fucking. Probably everyone. I don't care. Do you even care?"

Cas let out a growl. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"It's not. Fuck you." He pulled himself away.

"Do you want me, Dean?"

Dean stared at him.

"Yes," he said. "Yeah. Of course I fucking want you. You fucking asshole, you know I do." He got up, hobbling towards the doorway. "But I won't be one of your playthings."

Cas grabbed his arm and spun him around, shoving him back up against the wall, mirroring their earlier positions, only this time he kept his hands locked on Dean's, so there was nothing in the space between their mouths.

Dean was rock-hard in his jeans, and suddenly he didn’t care if Castiel knew it. His brain felt hot and chaotic, and he knocked Cas' legs apart, pushing his knee between them. Cas was as hard as he was, his eyes wide and dilated and mouth slightly open. It somehow only made Dean angrier.

He leaned forward, until their lips were almost touching, and he was perversely gratified to hear Cas' breathing go high and stuttering.

"Better go wash up for your next orgy, Cas," he whispered, then wrenched his hands free and stomped away.

He didn’t even get to the doorway before Cas was on him, with his inhuman speed, gripping his biceps in an iron hold.

"What _I'm_ playing at?" Cas asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Yes. I rebelled. And I did it all -- all of it -- for you. I gave up _everything_ for you. And this is what you give to me?"

Dean glared at him, but to his fury he couldn’t help dropping his glance to Cas' mouth, and he felt the heat of Cas' gaze raking over him.

The telltale shuffle of more croats crept up in the distance and they sprang apart, wary.

"Let's just get back to camp," Dean muttered, abruptly exhausted. "Let's just get back alive."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean jumped out of the truck as soon as he turned the engine off, striding into his cabin and slamming the door without looking back. He poured himself a double shot of whiskey and downed it in one go, dropping onto the couch and scrubbing his face.

He knew perfectly well that he wasn't being entirely fair, and that only pissed him off more. Spending time alone with Cas left him rattled under the best of circumstances, and nearly being eaten by a handful of croats didn't help. Nor did the knowledge that he could almost certainly have fucked Cas right there against the wall in the filthy auto plant, croats be damned. That knowledge sat thick and bitter on his tongue.

Dean knew he had no right to begrudge Cas his string of lovers. Before everything went to shit, Cas had made it clear that he wanted Dean, wanted only Dean, and Dean had reacted by burying his fear and insecurities in an endless sea of women, trying to drown out the voice of John Winchester in beer and pussy. Before Sam said yes, before Dean listened to Castiel screaming as his grace burned away, before the world went to such shit so fast that all of Dean's little hangups seemed fucking laughable.

And, he admitted to himself, he had no room to talk. He was hardly a saint, having warmed the beds of more than a few of the camp's inmates.

Dean knew this.

But he still couldn't squash the ugly twist in his stomach every time he saw someone -- sometimes plural -- stumbling out of his best friend's cabin. If he could even call Cas his best friend anymore. He knew beyond any doubt that Castiel would do anything for him, anything at all, without hesitation, and he knew with equal certainty that he would do the same. But there was so much between them, so many years of lies and betrayal, so much blood and death -- Dean never thought he'd miss the days of hunting vampires, getting manipulated by Heaven and Hell alike, of losing Cas to Purgatory, but they had each other, then. Even with all the things left unsaid between them, they'd had Team Free Will. And they had been Cas-and-Dean, too, Dean understood now.

He stood up and went to the table to pour another drink, and the door banged open behind him, followed by a familiar set of footsteps.

"Come on in then," Dean said, sarcasm laced through his voice.

"Dean," said that gravelly voice, and Dean felt his pulse begin to throb in his temples.

"Cas," he said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Cas, look --"

"Dean," Cas interrupted. "I -- I'm not certain I should stay in the camp any longer."

"What?" Dean said, whipping around. "What, why? Where would you go?"

"I don't know," Cas admitted. "But I fear I'm a -- a distraction to you. That we make each other weaker. Our people need you at full capacity, and it's not worth my safety. Or relative safety."

"No," Dean said firmly. "Cas, no. No fucking way. Dude, I know things are fucked up between us. Believe me, I know. And, yeah, no denyin' it, being around you sometimes fucks with my head. But I wouldn't be any better without you here. Even with the way things are, I'd fucking fall apart without you."

Cas looked unconvinced. "Dean..."

"This isn't up for discussion, Cas," he said. He couldn't maintain his mask of stoicism, and for once he looked at Castiel with raw and painful honesty. "Cas, I dunno how many times we're gonna have to go through this, but I'm gonna choose you, every fuckin' time."

"I think that's why I should go," Cas said, barely audible.

Dean was standing in front of Castiel in seconds, his wrist locked in his fingers.

"If you go," Dean said, low and flat, "I will find you. I will leave this fucking camp and everyone in it, and I will find you, so help me God. So for your sake, and my sake, and the sake of everyone in this godforsaken hellhole, I suggest you don't go." 

Cas just looked at him, hopelessness clearly written in his unearthly eyes, and before he could stop himself Dean reached out to wrap him in a tight embrace. To his relief, Cas' arms came up instinctively around his back.

"There's no winning this, Cas," Dean said into his hair. "There's no best-case scenario. Hell, I'm not entirely sure what we're fighting for. But don't leave. Don't you leave too."

Dean tightened his grip, and to his horror he felt hot tears behind his eyes. "We need you, Cas," he whispered. "I -- _I_ need you."

Cas let out a muffled choking sound into Dean's shoulder, and when they broke apart Cas' eyes were bright and wet.

"Stay," Dean murmured, not quite meeting his eyes. "Stay here with me. Just for tonight. Just -- like we used to."

"I can't watch over you like I used to," Cas said sadly. "I need my four hours as well, now."

Dean managed a small laugh. "Was fuckin' creepy anyway," he said, unconvincingly. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "You sure nobody's gonna miss you?" He was trying for levity, but even he could hear the note of bitterness that crept in.

"Don't," Cas said flatly, looking away. "Just don't."

Dean bristled, anger beginning to coil in his stomach again, but as he glared at Cas it dissolved as quickly as it formed.

"No," he said. "I won't. I'm sorry. I'm being a dick."

"Your reasons are not without merit," Cas said, still not looking at him.

"Hey," Dean said, shaking him. "This ain't your fault, Cas. None of this is your fault. Not your dick brother, not your fall from grace, not the fuckin' virus."

"It isn’t yours either, Dean," Cas said, finally looking up.

Dean snorted. "Maybe not entirely, but it's more mine than anybody's. If I'd said yes --"

"No," Cas said fiercely. "Don't say that. Don't ever."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, then the fight went out of him. "Yeah," he said. "You stayin'?"

Cas hesitated, then sighed. "Of course."

Dean exhaled, turning on his heel, and made his way to the dusty bedroom. He began peeling off his clothes, still sawdust-gritty and pocked with the occasional shard of glass, until he was down to his boxers and stained t-shirt. He plucked at the stiff patches in the shirt's fabric, then shrugged and pulled it off, distantly thankful that he was too bone-tired to think too hard about it.

He flopped onto the bed, eyes beginning to slip shut almost immediately, and he felt Cas climb in beside him, still wearing an old t-shirt.

They lay together in silence, pressed together from shoulder to hand but otherwise not touching.

In his half-conscious state, Dean was suddenly flooded with memories of all the times he and Cas had shared space like this, in dirty motel rooms or his now-ruined car, on hunts or in grimy alleys or a fucking park bench, when there was nothing bitter and ugly in their silence, and a sob ripped out of his throat.

Without saying a word, Castiel turned on his side and reached for him, and Dean let himself be pulled into his chest. He cried silently, shaking, hands fisted in Cas' shirt, and Cas' body hitched and shuddered against his. A hand came up to the back of Dean's neck, the gesture a mix of comfort, possession and raw, aimless desperation.

Eventually their breathing slowed and evened out, and their grips on each other loosened. The hot, dry air drifted oppressive through the window but neither made a move to separate, conscious or unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: angst. Lots of angst. I swear I'll fix it in the end! (Hopefully sooner than the end.)

The first thing Dean was aware of was the scent in his nostrils, familiar down to his bones. It was earthier than it used to be, and somehow warmer, but underneath was still the same clean tang that reminded Dean of leaves and rain. He inhaled, letting it wash over him as he crawled into consciousness.

He cracked open his eyes and blinked in surprise at the sunlight streaming through the window; usually he was up and dressed and checking his guns long before sunrise.

He stretched until his back popped, and as the sleep-haze cleared from his brain he realized he and Cas were still curled together. During the night their legs had tangled together, and Cas had apparently ditched his shirt at some point. Dean had one hand still clenched on Cas' chest and the other arm flung around his back.

Cas' eyes blinked open, and it occurred to Dean, distantly, that his fall from grace had done nothing to dilute their intensity. They gazed at each other blearily, and for a few long moments all the bitter tension between them was gone, melted away into something deep and open and honest.

The cabin door banged open and Risa's voice came in from the front room, low and angry.

"Dean?" she called. "You spent the night in Jane's cabin last night, didn't you? I went by and there was nobody --"

She stopped short at the bedroom door, taking in Dean and Cas' half-naked forms still wrapped up together.

"Oh," she said, her voice flat.

"Risa," Dean said blankly, twisting his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Um..."

"No, I get it," she said in the same expressionless tone. She turned on her heel and began walking away. "You know, a lot of bets are about to be settled today."

"No, Risa, it's not --" he said, finally trying to sit up.

She paused, turning half around. "No, I get it, Dean," she repeated with a sigh, the first hint of sadness creeping into her voice. She shook her head. "I just -- I thought we had a... 'connection'." She continued out, and the door slammed shut behind her.

"Fuck," Dean swore, rubbing his face.

Cas stared at him, his expression unreadable.

"I guess it wasn't me who was going to be _missed_ last night," he said, finally beginning to extricate himself from the bed.

"What?" Dean said, whipping his head around. "No, Cas, it's not -- we're not --"

"It's fine, Dean," Cas said, and instantly the tension was back in full force. He pulled on his jeans and picked up his shirt and jacket, not bothering to put them on. "I'd better go wash up for my next orgy, after all."

He turned and walked away, and the door clicked shut behind him before Dean could think of anything to say.

" _Fuck_!" he said again, and slammed his fist into the wall behind him.

Finally he sighed and swung his legs off the bed. There were a few splinters lodged in his hand from the wall, and he picked them out absently.

He got up and went to the bathroom, but before he'd even finished pissing and brushing his teeth there was a knock at the door.

"This isn't Grand fucking Central," he yelled.

Chuck poked his head through the front door. "Grand Central doesn't exist anymore," he pointed out.

Dean groaned. "Thank you, Captain friggin' Obvious. What do you want, Chuck?"

"Well, for one thing, it's almost noon, nobody's seen you today, and we're _still_ almost out of toilet paper."

"Yeah, well, yesterday's run ended up being a little more croat-happy than planned," Dean said grumpily. "Do I wanna know what the second thing is?"

Chuck paused, regarding him silently for a moment. "I couldn't help but notice Cas coming out of your cabin half-dressed," he said finally. "Not that that's a huge shock to anyone. But, uh, he didn't exactly look like the picture of a guy who just got like six years of sexual tension off his chest. I was on Team-Not-Sleeping-Together," he added as an afterthought.

"Well, you can stay on Team-Still-Not-Sleeping-Together," Dean snarled.

Chuck blinked at him. "Then why is Risa thundering around like a fucking storm cloud?"

Dean sighed. "You'd think this was high school, not the fucking apocalypse."

"Dean, if several of our fearless leaders are not on speaking terms, it's slightly relevant to our interests."

"Chuck, it's okay, man. Me and Cas -- we been through this before," Dean said, not entirely sure how much he was stretching the truth. "And Risa -- I'll talk to Risa."

Chuck eyed him. "Can I ask what happened?"

"Obviously you _can_ , since you just _did_ ," he snapped, but Chuck just waited calmly. Dean sighed again. "Look, dude, it's not that big a deal," he said, hoping it was true. "Some shit went down on the supply run yesterday. I'm a little stressed out here, in case you haven't noticed, and Cas and I got in a fight. He came over to talk about it -- you know his fuckin' hippie zen bullshit, he's worse than Sam --" he flinched, the familiar hollow in his stomach constricting at the reminder of his little brother, but barreled on, "-- and it was late. Nobody wants to be wandering around alone at night, even at camp, so he stayed over."

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't really explain Cas storming out of here half-naked, not to mention your own state of undress," he said in a neutral tone. "Or the death-stare Risa's throwing around."

Dean rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing already building up. "Dude, I've shared a motel bed with Cas more times than I could possibly count, and that was before the fuckin' apocalypse kinda made me reevaluate my life. I wasn't gonna make the guy sleep on my shitty-ass couch. Risa came over and got the wrong idea, and then I was kind of a dick to Cas, which ain't anythin' new. Okay?"

It wasn't technically a lie, and Dean hoped Chuck would let it go.

Chuck looked doubtful, but he shrugged. "Okay. Not trying to give you the third degree, but we got a lot to do, and the air feels like somebody's about to snap."

"All right, Chuck," Dean said, closing his eyes. "I'll go talk to 'em, we'll all kiss and make up, and we'll carry on with the end of the world. Sounds like a plan."

Chuck said nothing, but he put a sympathetic hand on Dean's shoulder before walking out the door.

Dean dug up the least filthy clothes he could find and toed on his boots. He slung a gun around his back and walked outside, then paused, considering.

He decided to tackle Risa first. Unpleasant as it would be, that conversation would be much, much simpler than whatever conversation he was going to have with Cas. He _didn't_ actually sleep with Cas, he reminded himself, and he could, hopefully, explain that she'd misunderstood.

He wandered through the camp looking for her for the better part of an hour before giving up, figuring she'd either gone out on a run or just didn't want to be found. Kicking at leaves, he trudged slowly to Cas' cabin, still with no idea what to say.

Dean took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock, then froze when he glanced through the window. Cas was sprawled on the couch, eyes closed and still shirtless, but Risa was on top of him, straddling his waist. Cas' hands rested on her hips, thumbs sliding under the hem of her shirt, and she was tracing her fingers over the musculature of his chest.

Cas chose that moment to look up, as Dean was standing motionless at his door with his hand raised stupidly. Risa kept stroking his chest, oblivious, but Cas locked eyes with Dean, his mouth falling open slightly in a rare gesture of surprise.

They held each other's gaze for a long tense moment, until Dean finally spun around and stomped off.

He found Chuck at the supply tent, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's worked itself out," he said shortly, throwing his gun to the ground and ignoring the roiling in his stomach. "C'mon. We got shit to do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started fixing the angst! A little!

Dean couldn't avoid Cas, much as he wanted to. They really were running critically short on supplies, so that night found the two of them on yet another attempt at a supply run, along with Risa, Chuck and a couple other camp denizens, at a rural Wal-Mart that miraculously hadn't yet been totally stripped.

Chuck kept glancing warily between Dean, Cas and Risa, but they worked together as they always did, with ruthless, professional efficiency. The three of them functioned as a well-oiled machine, barely needing instructions or warnings as they made their way through the barren aisles.

Dean's stomach still twisted when he thought of Risa half-lying on top of Cas, but he shut those thoughts down with practiced skill. If there was one hard and fast rule at the camp, it was that you do not let whatever personal shit you're going through get in the way of a job. And if you do, you're out of the camp -- and by proxy, essentially dead. No interventions, no second chances.

And he'd had to do it, too, more than once, when somebody's emotional outburst fucked up a job and got people killed. He'd had to do it to people he _liked_ , seen their faces crumple as he shoved them out the gate. Seen the faces of the remaining survivors as he turned back towards them.

He hadn't had to do it in a fucking long time.

But he'd do it again if he had to. He didn't hold himself above this rule and he didn't exempt his leaders, and he'd march all three of them out the front fucking gate if they fell apart here.

So they didn't. They covered each other's backs, communicating in clipped quiet mutters, dispatching a few stray croats along the way. To their astonishment they found a handful of bulk packages of toilet paper in a storage room, along with a supply closet half-full of canned ravioli.

The three of them formed a circle around Chuck, who had a grocery cart, and Dean always almost laughed at the sight of Chuck pushing a grocery cart through a fucking Wal-Mart like a normal Tuesday evening or some shit. The other two on the team scouted in front and behind, implicitly trusting Dean, Cas and Risa to cover them. They loaded up the cart with as much food as they could, stuffing and balancing toilet paper in any free space, and each carried another package under the arm not holding a gun.

"Risa," Dean bit out, gesturing. She spun around but she was too late, the croat knocking the gun out of her hands. Dean shot it twice just before it got to her and it collapsed, motionless. Risa took a single deep breath, then picked up her gun and resumed her position.

"OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, her voice admirably even. "Thank you."

He grunted, and Cas gave him an unreadable look.

They got out to the parking lot and the truck loaded without any further incident. Cas and Chuck sat in the truck bed with the supplies, leaving Risa in the front with Dean in an awkward silence.

"He loves you, you know," she finally said, and Dean clenched his teeth.

"He doesn't love me," he said. "He _loved_ me. Past tense."

She shook her head and didn't say anything more.

They got back to the camp and got the supplies put away, and Dean had just sat down with a beer when he heard a gravelly voice at his door for the second night in a row.

"Dean."

"What, Cas?" Dean said without looking up. "What do you want? We got supplies, we didn't get killed, didn't kill each other. What?"

"I think we should talk."

"About what?" Dean said, finally meeting his eyes. "Look, I get it. I'm a hypocrite. I thank you for pointing it out and all, but I'm well aware of it. I'm human. I'm sorry."

Cas exhaled loudly. "This is what I meant, about leaving the camp."

"Don't start that again, Cas," Dean growled. "Whatever happened earlier doesn't change anythin'. Anyway, we proved tonight we can still work together, even if we hate each other."

Cas flinched, but Dean ignored it.

"What if that changes?" Cas said softly. "What if someday it's -- it's too much?"

"You think that's gonna happen, Cas? You think someday you'll hate me so much you'd let a croat get me? You think _I'd_ do that to you? Or Risa, or anyone?"

He threw Cas a beer and Cas caught it automatically. "No," he finally said, fiddling with the label. "I'm just…"

"Scared," Dean finished. "Yeah. I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Cas spoke again. "I'm sorry for this morning," he said. "I overreacted. I know that you -- you don't want anyone to think you and I are anything but… friends. It wasn't my place to --"

"Wait, what?" Dean said, jerking his head up.

"I know you hate it when people think you and I are… intimate," Cas continued, a faint blush on his cheeks. "It -- it doesn't usually bother me, but --"

"Cas," Dean said, bewildered, "half the camp thinks me and you are 'intimate,' and the other half still wonders. If it bothered me, don't you think I'd've, you know, said somethin'?"

Cas looked up at him in confusion. "But this morning, when Risa came in… And you just wanted to make it so clear we weren't, you know..."

Understanding dawned on Dean's face, and he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

" _That's_ what you thought?" he said. "That I was ashamed of you?" He thought back to the morning -- _"No, Risa, it's not --"_ and his stomach twisted. "Shit, Cas," he said. "That's not -- dude, I was just _flustered_. Been a long time since I woke up with you, and it threw me off. And we _hadn't_ , you know, done anything, so it took my brain a minute to catch up. And, well, none of us in this place are exactly saints," he admitted. "So yeah, Risa walkin' in on me in bed all octopused-out with another dude -- another _anyone_ \-- little awkward. But I'm not _ashamed_ of you, Cas. Never have been and never could be."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you of all the times you bent over backwards needlessly asserting your affinity for women, and that you and I were in no way together? Even… even to Sam?"

Dean's heart clenched, but he sighed. "Dude, I know I was a dick to you. I got no excuses. No, I got tons of excuses, but none of 'em matter. And even then, I was never ashamed of you, not ever. Just me, me and my shitty little paranoias I couldn't get over. But, Cas, these last couple years… they've sucked more than about anything, and that's including having seen almost everyone I care about die. I'm not exactly hung up on the stupid shit anymore," he said with a hollow laugh.

Cas watched him silently for a few moments. "I didn't mean to… with Risa," he finally said. "It wasn't… intentional. She came over to talk to me, and we were both upset, and hurt, and… and high," he admitted. "It's so hard not to take comfort here, when it's offered."

"Yeah," Dean said softly. "I get that."

"We, um," Cas continued.

"Don't need to know, dude," Dean interrupted.

"No," Cas said. "We -- she saw you leaving. We had a beer and she left. She… she knows, Dean."

Dean bit his lip, but he felt something ugly melt away in his stomach. "She knows… what?"

"You know, Dean," Cas said, staring at his hands. "I know you know."

Dean leaned forward, reaching for his hands, and Cas let him rub the pad of his thumbs over his palms. They rested their foreheads together, but when Dean hesitantly tilted his head up, Cas pulled back, reluctantly.

"Not like this," he said. "It's almost dark. And we're both sad, and pissed off, and scared. I don't want…" He trailed off.

"To regret it in the morning," Dean finished. Cas flinched, but there was no bitterness in Dean's face. "Yeah. I get it, Cas. Um, maybe we can talk tomorrow? We got enough toilet paper to last us a few days," he said, with a lopsided smile.

"I'd like that very much, Dean," he said. They stood up, still too close together, and Dean wrapped his pinky finger in the hem of Cas' shirt.

They stayed like that in silence, so close their breaths puffed together, until Dean or Cas or they both at once leaned forward, lips brushing together, and then both pulled back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Cas whispered, dragging a thumb over his jaw before disappearing out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pornnnnnnn

Dean paced around his cabin. As usual, there were countless little tasks that needed his attention, but he couldn't settle on any of them. Every time somebody passed by outside he glanced at the door, wondering if Cas was coming over.

Finally he gave up, settling on the couch with a beer, his stomach fuzzy with nerves and anticipation. The attraction between Cas and himself was something of an open secret at the camp. Castiel had never been subtle with his attentions, either as angel or as human, and Dean was aware, in retrospect, that his own feelings had never been nearly so camouflaged as he'd liked to think.

But he and Cas -- and by extension, everyone else in the camp -- had a sort of tacit agreement to ignore it. Nearly everyone was guilty of the occasional dalliances, finding whatever pleasures there were left to be had -- though Cas had set the bar pretty high for sheer volume -- but there was a fucking apocalypse to deal with, and Dean knew whatever was between him and Cas wasn't going to be resolved with a quick fuck out back.

On the other hand, the tension was beginning to spiral out of control. Dean couldn't imagine a time when they'd let it interfere with keeping the camp functioning, but he knew Cas was right, and if they wanted to stay alive, he and Cas needed to stay focused.

He let out a long sigh, then jumped as a knock sounded at the door. Cas rarely bothered with formalities like knocking, so he opened the door with some hesitation.

"Oh. Hey, Chuck," he said in surprise, standing aside to let him in.

Chuck gave him a tired smile, dropping into a kitchen chair. "Hi. Nothing much to report. I just finished inventorying last night's haul, figured I'd stop by to give you a head's up.

Dean nodded. "How we looking?"

"Better," Chuck said with a shrug. "It ain't pretty --" Dean let out an unamused snort at that -- "but we got enough cushion that we should be able to take our time with the next one, minimize the risks."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't aware it was a matter of minimizing risks instead of bringing big guns and sharp shooters."

Chuck shrugged again. "True. But things get a whole lot dicier when we're half-starved and fighting for our next meal." He paused. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Dean said. "As fine as I can be."

Chuck eyed him. "You should talk to him," he finally said, and Dean groaned.

"Why's everyone suddenly goin' all Dr. Phil on me?"

Chuck put up his hands. "Dean, I just --"

"No, I get it," Dean said with a sigh. "There's a lot more at stake than me n' Cas goin' all Sweet Valley High here. But yeah. We talked a little. Workin' on it."

As if on cue, the door banged open. 

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, striding in, then stopped short. "Oh. Hello, Chuck."

"Do you even _pretend_ to understand personal space?" Dean said tiredly.

"No," Cas said, blinking. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no," Dean began, hoping to put off whatever discussion they were going to have, but Chuck stood up.

"I just stopped by to give our fearless leader a status update," he said. "Nice job back there last night," he added. "Both of you. Food supply's looking way more comfortable."

"Good," Cas said. Chuck nodded and waved, and they watched him go.

"Look, Cas," Dean finally said, rubbing his neck. "Feel like there's about 17 conversations we should be havin', and I dunno where any of 'em begin." He rummaged through the kitchen, then tossed Cas a beer. Cas caught it reflexively, popping the cap off before sitting on the couch, and Dean dropped down next him.

"What happened?" Dean said, not looking at Cas. "I mean -- this ain't new, Cas," he continued, gesturing vaguely between them. "Whatever's goin' on here, it ain't new. Been goin' on for years. Longer, probably, much as I'd deny it if I still had it in me to care. And it was, you know, okay. We dealt with it. Why's it all goin' to shit now?"

Cas fiddled with his beer, not denying it. "The world's ending, Dean," he said. "I find it increasingly difficult to waste my energy ignoring... this."

Dean hesitated, then nodded. "What d'we do, though?" he said. "Seems like every answer I can come up with is wrong."

Cas didn't answer, but he reached over and hooked his index finger under Dean's.

Dean sighed, twisting their fingers together. "I got no right to judge you, the way you live, the way you deal with this shit," he said. "I get that, Cas. I do. But I can't do that. Not with you."

"There's never been anyone for me but you, Dean," Cas said softly. Dean made a small, disbelieving noise in his throat, and Cas shook his head. "You know it's true. It always has been. But, Dean… You can't tell me I can't have you, and I can't have anyone else either."

"What if," Dean said. He licked his lips. "What if you could have me?"

Cas' head jerked up in surprise, but Dean met his gaze.

"You're serious," Cas said, something like awe in his face.

"Don't have to look so shocked," Dean mumbled with a short laugh. "Cas, look. I'm done. I'm so done. Like you said, it's the end of the fuckin' world. And if there's one thing that can help a guy get over his fucking hangups, it's that." He let out a long sigh, twining their hands more tightly. "I know I fucked up, Cas. Fucked up bad and I did it for years. You don't owe me shit. But --"

Cas interrupted him, leaning over to press a single slow kiss to his mouth. "I owe you everything, Dean Winchester," he said. He traced Dean's lips with his thumb, then pulled back reluctantly. "But, Dean… You don't have to do this. We'll figure it out, somehow."

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "You fuckin' lunatic," he finally said. "I wanna do this, Cas. Hell, I've wanted to do this for _years_ , even if I didn't quite know it." He paused, considering his words. "Just… by the time I figured that out -- let alone by the time I stopped being terrified by it -- I dunno. Croats were spawning everywhere, and -- and Sam, Sam was -- and then you were…"

"Fully embracing my newfound humanity," Cas finished bitterly.

Dean flinched, but he squeezed Cas' hand. "Hey," he said. "I meant what I said. I know I'm a dick to you -- and that probably won't change," he admitted. "I'm kind of a dick in general. But I got no place to judge." He slumped into Cas, tilting their heads together, and his heartbeat began to pick up. "So," he blurted, then stopped, rubbing his eyes.

"Is this where you tell me I should know what I'm doing by now?" Cas asked. His tone was light but his eyes were tense.

Dean stared at him, then burst out laughing, loud and genuine. "Not gonna lie, Cas, it wasn't all that long ago that I woulda pegged you a shifter if those words came out've your mouth."

Cas tilted his head, visibly reviewing what he'd said, then smiled. "I suppose some things have changed," he admitted.

"Mm," Dean agreed. He finally leaned in, brushing their lips together experimentally, and Cas let out a soft moan. "Jesus," Dean breathed. "Keep makin' noises like that, not gonna be able to restrain myself."

"Not -- a deterrent," Cas murmured, and then Dean found himself shoved back against the couch with six feet of former angel climbing into his lap.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean said, rolling his hips instinctively, and Castiel growled. He bent over and caught Dean's lip between his teeth, wrapping his hand in his hair, then slipped his tongue into his mouth.

Dean moaned, going open and pliant underneath him. Cas broke away, gasping.

"You're sure about this, Dean?" he whispered, his fingertips playing at the collar of Dean's shirt.

" _Yes_ ," Dean said insistently. He yanked Cas' shirt off and threw it aside, lifting his arms for Cas to do the same to his.

They had their hands working open the waistband of each other's jeans when the door banged open again.

"Dean," Risa yelled, "Chuck says there's a -- oh," she said blankly, staring their obvious state of undress for the second time in two days, but this time there was a smile working its way to the corners of her mouth. "Don't you have a fucking _lock_ , Dean?"

"No," he informed her. "Don't any of you fuckin' _knock_?"

She shrugged. "Anyway, Chuck's got a lead, but, uh, I think it can wait 'til the morning," she said. She turned around and threw a smirk over her shoulder. "Jesus, just when I thought this place couldn't get any _more_ incestuous," she called, before letting herself out.

Dean groaned, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder and trying to catch his breath. "She seems… okay with this?"

"Mm," Cas said, mouthing at his neck before pulling away. "She's… she's not in love with you, Dean," he said. "She just didn't want to be treated like… like a toy."

"Oh," Dean said softly, guilt twisting in his stomach. "Are… are you?"

Cas sighed, looking down at him. "Do you really have to ask that?" he said. "I don't expect you to say it, Dean, and it's okay, but please don't make me --"

"I love you, Cas," Dean interrupted, and Cas stared at him in shock.

"You…"

"Of course I love you, you fuckin' asshat," Dean said. "You _know_ I do, you can't not." He leaned up, attaching his lips to the hollow of Cas' throat, and Cas made a small whimper.

"Love you," Cas whispered brokenly. "Love you, always, always loved you." He leaned back and took a deep breath. "Also," he added shakily, "I still do not understand why _asshat_ is an acceptable insult, and _assbutt_ \--"

Dean cut him off with a kiss, but he was grinning. "Lunatic," he reiterated. "Fuckin' lunatic."

He shoved Cas off of him, standing up as Cas fell back with a mewl of surprise, and held out his hand.

"Bedroom," Dean growled. "We do this on the couch and I'm not gonna be able to walk for days."

"Who says you'll be able to anyway?" Cas murmured. Dean almost tripped over his own feet, and Cas pulled back. "Um," he said, clearing his throat. "Not that -- you, we don't --"

"We'll figure it out," Dean said, kissing him soft and sweet, and Cas exhaled in relief, letting Dean drag him down the hall and pull him onto the bed. They fumbled at each other, biting and nibbling and tugging off jeans and boxers, until they were finally sprawled out on the bed, naked and gasping.

Dean rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and trailing his other hand down Cas' ribs.

"So," he began, tracing small circles onto Cas' hipbones, then moving his hand lower to run his thumb over Cas' cock, and Cas' breathing hitched.

"Jesus," Cas said darkly. "You really _did_ get over yourself."

"Yeah, well," Dean said with a small laugh. "Y'know how it is. Apocalypse."

Cas kissed him hard, then turned them over until Dean was laid out flat on the bed, panting. "Is this okay?" he said, but Dean only gave a whine and a shudder in response. Cas leaned down, following the lines of Dean's body with his mouth. He licked at Dean's dick, and at the same time he pressed his hand between his legs.

"Oh, God," Dean said, as Cas pushed a finger inside of him. "Cas, Cas, wait," he said, and Cas froze.

"Should I stop?" he said. "I don't want to hurt --"

"If you stop," Dean informed him, "I will kill you. Um. There's -- there's lube," he said, blushing. "In the -- in the drawer."

Cas leaned over and rummaged through the nightstand until he came up with the bottle, then drizzled it over his fingers. He slid one finger back inside, then added a second and a third, twisting them experimentally, and Dean cried out.

"Please, Cas," he bit out.

Cas kept stroking his fingers into Dean, but he looked down at him seriously. "Dean," he said, not slowing his pace. "You're --"

"I'm _sure_ ," Dean choked, grinding down. "I'm -- I'm fucking _sure_."

Cas slicked up his cock and hitched himself up the bed, lining up against Dean's hole, just teasing until Dean shoved himself upwards. "Cas, I swear to you if you don’t --"

Cas let out a moan, then pushed himself inside. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas' hips, scrabbling his hands at his sweat-soaked back.

"Love you, Dean," he groaned. "Love you, I love you --"

"Cas. Cas, Cas," Dean chanted. "Cas, yeah, Cas --"

Cas bit at his nipple and Dean arched up, forcing him in deeper. "Please," Dean said. "Please, baby, do it."

Cas snarled, shifting his hips until he could fuck right up until Dean was screaming with each thrust.

"Mine, Dean," he growled. " _Mine_."

"Yours," Dean gasped. "Yeah, yeah, yours. God, fuck, why didn't we --"

"Couldn't have," Cas said. He slowed down his pace but still twisted his hips up with every few breaths, and Dean whined. "Wanna do this right," Cas whispered.

"You're _doing it right_ ," Dean snarled, and finally Cas let himself go, slamming into him.

"Oh God," Cas said, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I can't -- I _can't_ \--"

He threw his head back and came with a cry, and the hot release inside of Dean was enough to send him over the edge. Cas collapsed onto him, and they lay together, panting.

"Well," Dean said, with an attempt at a laugh.

"Mrrph," Cas agreed, nuzzling into his shoulder. He pulled out carefully, and dropped down next to Dean. "We will have to deal with this, you know," he said, and he was surprised when Dean just snorted.

"Been _dealing_ with this since I met you," he murmured, pulling Castiel in. "Gonna goddamn _enjoy_ this now. For as long as I can."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> between GISHWHES and, like, becoming a bike hippie afterwards, updates are gonna be more sporadic, I think, but I love you guys more than I can say. <3

Cas was gone when Dean woke up, but there was a pot of fresh coffee brewing on the stove, and there was a note on the table in Cas' familiar scrawl. _Run tonight. Meet's at 8_.

Dean smiled, stretching until his back popped.

"Dean?" Chuck called, tentatively. "Is it, uh… okay to come in?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah."

Chuck poked his head in slowly, and Dean sighed.

"Out with it, Chuck."

"Well," Chuck said, hesitant. "There were, uh. People said they heard stuff… last night. And then… Cas left your cabin _again_ , this morning. So…"

Dean groaned, but he couldn't help the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Wait," Chuck said, staring at him. "Wait, so --?"

Dean rubbed his face, considering, but finally looked up at Chuck. "Dude, please keep it down as much as you can. This shit has the potential to go nuclear six ways from Sunday, and we need to minimize that. We'll, uh… we'll deal with it."

Chuck just nodded, but a small smile was in his face.

"Dean," he said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you. For you, of course, and Cas, but… for all of us, I think."

Dean batted his hand away, but there was no heat in it. "Yeah. Great. Okay. So 8:00, yeah?"

Chuck raised his eyebrow.

"Am I really gonna get shit every time Cas leaves a note now?" Dean muttered. "Jesus, and I thought it was bad when we _weren't_ fucking --"

Chuck choked slightly. "Wait, so you're really --?"

"We're really," Dean said, dropping down at the table. "I dunno what we are, but I think we're really." He took a long drink of coffee.

Chuck eyed him. "8:00 then?"

"8:00."

\---

It was supposed to be a basic, run-of-the-mill job. No complications, just a straight in, straight out shot. Dean never did know exactly where Chuck got his information from all the time, but it all looked clear. Their supplies were good enough that they didn't need a huge run, and there was a small strip mall an hour's drive away that looked promising.

Which was why Dean decided to take a couple of new recruits with them, and which it was why it was Dean's fault when one of them lost his shit the first time he was faced with plugging a croat.

He panicked and the croat got him. Without question Dean aimed and killed the kid, but the noise had attracted more, and they all got separated.

Dean worked his way through the store. He found Chuck and the other new guy, a dude Dean thought was called James, and they covered each other until they finally found Cas, unconscious on the ground, his leg ripped open from hip to knee, filthy blood leaking into it.

"Cas," Dean whispered, dropping his gun. "God, no."

"Dean," Chuck said, softly. "You… you have to."

"I won't," Dean snarled. "It's _Cas_. We'll figure it out."

Chuck sighed. "It won't be Cas when he wakes up," he said. "You know that."

Dean stared at the body lying on the ground in front of him.

"I can't do it, Chuck," he said, his eyes burning. "Not him. I can't."

"I'll do it for you, if I have to," Chuck said. Dean whipped around, aiming at Chuck, but Chuck just raised his hands defenselessly. "I'm so sorry, Dean. It's bound to happen to us all, someday."

Dean choked, thinking of all the times he could have had Cas in his arms. His legs gave out and the world blurred.

The body on the ground shuddered at that moment, and Dean took a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry, Cas," he whispered, cocking his gun.

"Dean?" said the thing, cracking its eyes. "Dean, is that -- what --?"

" _Cas_?" Dean said, getting to his knees. "Cas, that you?"

Cas stared at him confusedly, then looked at his leg.

"What?" he said, scrambling to sit up. "Am I, uh --"

"Obviously not yet," Dean said, rubbing his eyes. "But you should be. You really should be. Any ideas?"

Cas pulled himself up, painfully. He looked at the black blood oozing into the wet red wound, and he frowned, dazed.

"I don't think I'm..." he murmured, leaning against Dean.

"Okay," Dean said. "I -- You know I gotta shoot you in the face, Cas, if we're wrong here."

Cas sat against the wall. "Dean?" he said hesitantly. "It, um… it didn't affect… Sam, either, did it?"

Dean's stomach twisted and bile rose in his throat, but he forced them down.

"Sam wasn't a demon, but he had demon blood," Cas said, softly. "And I… I'm not an angel anymore, but I still am not exactly human. Maybe…"

Dean stared at him, a tiny ball of hope twining into his chest. He looked at Chuck, who still had his gun trained on Castiel but was cocking his head, watching.

"The signs aren't there," Chuck finally said. "I know 'em as well as you do. Don't know why, but he's not turning."

"H-how do you know?" the new guy said tentatively. He had been hanging back, silent, but now he stepped forward. "I mean, he -- he could still change…"

Dean almost lunged at him, but Chuck gave him a quick, pointed glare, and for once Dean restrained himself.

"Kid," Chuck said with a sigh. "James, right? You live long enough here, you'll learn how you know."

The guy hesitated, but nodded, moving back. Dean turned back to Cas and dropped into a crouch.

"Can you walk?" he asked, eyeing the gouge down Cas' leg. "This run's a total bust, obviously, but --"

"N-not completely," James spoke up again, unexpectedly. "I… when we got separated, I found a couple boxes of canned food, I dunno what kind… I threw 'em out the front, we should be able to grab 'em if we go out that way…"

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Nice job, kid," he said. He dropped down to Cas' other side, and they hauled him to his feet. "Can you put any weight on it?"

Cas took a tentative step and sucked in his breath. "Not much," he admitted, gritting his teeth.

Chuck paused, considering. "James, you and I will help Cas. Dean, you cover us."

"I'm not --" Dean growled, tightening his hold on Cas' waist, but Chuck interrupted him.

"Dean, you're the best fighter of the three of us," he said. "By far. Whereas James and I are quite capable of helping Cas walk. And we need to get out _now_. Don't be an asshole."

Dean glared at him, but he reluctantly let go. The new kid was still clearly unsure that Cas wasn't going to go croat any second, but he dropped his gun and got himself under Cas' free arm.

Miraculously, they got out the door without incident, and as James had said there were several boxes of food strewn haphazardly near the entry. Chuck and James got Cas safely in the front seat while Dean threw them in the bed of the truck, then crawled in after Cas.

Dean hopped into the driver's seat, slamming the door and starting the truck. He was silent until they got out on the empty highway, heading back to camp.

"You really okay?" he finally asked, glancing at Cas, who was pale and shaky but his eyes were clear.

"I believe so," Cas said. He prodded at his leg, and Dean smacked at him gently.

Chuck and James stopped outside of Dean's cabin. Dean jumped out, and began helping Cas from the passenger seat.

"Dean, I can --"

"Fuck off," Dean informed Cas. "You're staying with me." He nodded at Chuck and James, and they drove off.

Dean watched Cas carefully as they got themselves inside. He was limping, grimacing, but there was no sign of the virus in his face.

"Cas," he said, settling him on the bed. "You're… Fuck, Cas, you're okay?"

Cas looked up at him, his eyes as intense as ever, and Dean swallowed.

"I don't know how we're defining 'okay' these days," Cas said, thickly. "But… yes."

Dean stared at him, his fists clenching. "God, I want to hit you so hard right now," he said.

"Please don't," Cas said, his head falling back on the pillow. "It was not my intention to get injured."

"I thought I'd lost you," Dean whispered. "Thought you were gone, forever."

Cas reached out, blindly. "Still here," he mumbled. "Please."

Dean dropped down, finally, pressing up against Cas' side. He mouthed along Cas' shoulder. "Stay here," he said, stroking Cas' wounded leg. "Stay here with me."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my still super-bare tumblr, [relucant](relucant.tumblr.com).
> 
> I'm nice.


End file.
